A Demon's Lot
by Taffia
Summary: Chased from the Abyss that he'd called home for so long, Cindred is forced to wander the Realmz for all time. Befriending a young vampire, he thinks that his life is finally settling peacefully...until his haven is invaded.
1. Chapter Once: Cindred's Spirit

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Disclaimer: All characters and places within are property of Fantasoft et al.

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A Demon's Lot

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Chapter One: Cindred's Spirit

"Will you cut it out with the noise? If the guards haven't heard us yet, they soon will if you keep that up."

"I can't help it, Sliver. I've not eaten in a good day and a half. Why couldn't we have stopped at the tavern before setting out?"

"Because, you oaf, human food isn't for either of us."

"It still would have been something in my stomach."

"Just keep quiet, Cindred. Our prey's arriving."

The two shadows ceased their whispered argument as a merchant approached the alleyway they were concealed in. He was dressed in bright finery of red and yellow velvet and sported a heavy medallion about his neck that was tied to a ribbon of royal blue. He looked like the only thing he cherished more than coin was food.

Sliver smirked as he approached, the girl pulling deeper into the shadows as she made ready to pounce on her victim. She wasn't in the mood to play with her food this night. Turning to the massive form of Cindred beside her, she jerked her thumb backward, motioning for him to keep far out of sight. He obeyed her with a nod and a slight snort through his ox-like nose. Sliver winced a little when the merchant paused at the noise. It didn't matter, though. He was right where she wanted him.

Leaping out from her hiding place, she latched her hands about his pasty neck, her talon-like fingernails digging into his flesh in just such a way that he was unable to cry out as she dragged him with her into the gloom of her alley. She could feel his warm blood begin to dribble along her slender, pale fingers and hands, but she wouldn't feed until she knew they were well out of sight. Cindred helped her after a few moments, picking up the merchant's kicking feet and giving them a good shove around to the side so that the man was entirely concealed from any random eye.

Sliver didn't waste an instant. She hungrily lowered her mouth to the wounds she'd created and sucked the merchant's life clean away from him, daintily wiping her ruby lips with a fold of his short cloak when she was finished. Heaving a contented sigh, she gracefully stood and ran a hand through her long, lustrous golden-red hair, and brushed off the royal violet of her clinging velvet gown, smirking down at the form of the merchant.

"That was fulfilling," she said lowly, smiling up at Cindred. "Now, to find something for you."

"Well…" Cindred's deep voice began, "if you'd left a little juice behind, that wouldn't be a problem."

Sliver looked down at the dead man thoughtfully. "There should still be some, if that's what you want," she said with a shrug. "Just hurry it up. I don't want to be anywhere near when the town watch comes by. An audience with King Stevens is the very last thing I need."

As the minotaur-like beast set about feeding, the vampire crept back to the alley mouth, crouching low behind a rank, rotting barrel to keep watch. As much as she relied on Cindred for survival, and he her, she still had to teach him to eat a bit more quietly. They'd been companions for a good few weeks, now, the demon having been chased through a portal from the Abyss by ever-present rivals. He was a young thing, barely old enough to be considered more than a child, but, then, so was Sliver when it all came down to it. In vampire society, seventy-seven years of unlife was nothing to boast of. Especially where she was concerned. She was a rogue in more ways than just the thieving sense, and more than a handful of her kind would like to see her officially dead. She held a bit of pride in that. At least she was known outside of her former clan, which wasn't a common thing lest you were a powerful elder.

There was a sharp cracking sound behind her as Cindred began to suck the marrow from the bones. It wouldn't be much longer before those bones were little more than dust. That was another handy thing about the demon. He didn't leave any traces of victims behind. So long as Sliver helped to keep him fed, he'd be more than willing to dispose of any and all evidence.

"Are you finished yet?" she whispered harshly back to him after a few minutes. She was beginning to get antsy. The watch would be coming any time now…she could just feel it.

Cindred grunted and looked up at her with his glowing green eyes, knelt over a rumpled pile of bloodstained velvet, his one muscular forearm wiping at his snout.

"Nearly," he mumbled as if around a mouthful.

"Then grab what's left and come on," Sliver hissed. "We've been here too long already."

The demon snorted in acquiescence and nodded, grabbing up what was left of the merchant's material possessions—his clothing, the medallion, a hefty pouch of coins and an ornamental dagger—and came up behind Sliver as she stood, her eyes peering about the abandoned street. He looked over her shoulder, the items all clutched to his massive chest. Easily eight feet tall, he towered over Sliver's slender and shapely five and a half. She flicked a hand back and playfully smacked his snout.

"It's clear," she said lowly as he grunted out a short chuckling retort at her mock violence. "We'd best move quickly, though. The eastern sky hints of dawning, and I don't want to be anywhere about when the sun crests the hills."

Cindred blinked at her as they scurried through the empty streets, ducking into the shadows now and again as they headed for the old cemetery in Bywater, Sliver's haven during the day.

"You forgot your cloak again," he said sternly, though only truly realizing it himself.

"I wasn't planning on being out this long," she replied in kind, her sweet, mellow voice holding a bite in it as she rushed along. "Too many days, now, I've been awake into the sun's reign. I need to catch up on my sleep."

They were close now, Cindred could tell. The stench of the cemetery carried on the crisp winter wind thanks to the mad cleric that had worked adamantly at building an army of undead to quash the Spider Cult just a few days past. He and Sliver had to be extra cautious in hiding from him along with a band of six unseemly rogues that hardly seemed to get on. The mausoleum that Sliver 'lived' in had been used as a secret laboratory in building the army, the vampire and demon both afraid of even going there—night or day. Since the beginning of the week, they'd had to stay awake much longer than they would have liked, seeking shelter in some of the dug-up graves.

The woman halted abruptly at the cemetery's gates, glancing inside just to make sure it was as empty and mournful as always. Nodding at nothing in particular, she pulled the gate open with a grinding creak of iron against iron and strode inside, walking purposefully to her mausoleum. Cindred maintained a safe, close distance behind. Once in the safety of the crypt, Sliver seemed to relax substantially, and the demon rushed ahead of her to pull open the secret door to her tomb. She nodded her thanks to him.

"Where do you want these?" he asked, holding up the prize the merchant had left them.

Sliver shrugged tiredly. "In the storeroom, I suppose. And never mind his clothes. Throw them on the brazier in the old temple. They're useless in the state they're in."

Cindred nodded and set about the task as the vampire closed the portion of wall between them. 

For being what he was, Cindred was entirely too good-natured. That, he remembered, was why he'd been chased from the Abyss. Certainly, he could kill without a second thought, regardless of what it was he was fighting, but he'd always found it somewhere within him to try to get along with whomever was even remotely kind to him. Like Sliver. She'd found him in the forest just to the southeast of the city not all that long past, and, after several misunderstandings on both sides—the demon confusing Sliver for an elf she had once been and trying to kill her outright—they finally found out they had more in common than what would be expected.

They were both outcasts for starters. Cindred had been chased from his home just as Sliver had been too independent to function properly within her clan of vampires. They were also the sorts that most other races abhorred more than anything else in the waking world. Folk of all kinds tended to stay away from them, which was just fine in Cindred's mind. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Walking down the long abandoned corridors in his slow, lumbering pace that he usually took when not in a hurry, his diamond-hard hooves clomping on the flagstones, Cindred deposited most of the goods in the storeroom Sliver had mentioned before moving on to the desecrated temple on the other side of the crypt entire. He passed a cluster of giant rats that stayed well clear of him out of fear just before entering the great columned doorway into the temple. He grunted in disgust at them but otherwise ignored their presence. They were vermin that he never truly could get rid of. Shaking his horned head, he strode right over to a lit brazier of smoldering coals and tossed the ruined clothing into it, watching the velvet smoke as it was consumed by flames.

He stood there and stared for a while, the fire before him reminding him all too much of his former home…but he couldn't look away. The pain held him fast more strongly than the panic urged him to leave. He could hear the angry shouts and whoops of his peers as they chased him though cavern after tunnel, up and out of his home. His only chance of escape had been a portal that he, in all honesty, mistakenly happened upon. It had simply appeared out of nowhere as if being summoned, but when he reached the other side, there was naught but a frightened vampire whelp who most certainly hadn't been in charge of bringing him to the material plane.

A disturbance right then, however, jolted him back to the present. The rats outside were chittering away and he could swear that he heard a young boy's voice shout over the din. He couldn't make out the words, though. With a gruff snort, he walked back over to the doorway and peered out. There, longsword swinging without a cause, was a lad no older than fifteen by the looks of him, clad in simple chainmail and an iron helm and steel-shod boots. He was fighting the rats, it seemed, almost as if he had nothing else to do with his time. To Cindred, however, he was just another annoyance—a child wanting nothing more than to be an adventurer.

He watched the battle for some minutes, rather amused at the boy's incapability of being able to strike any lasting damage to his opponents. With a guttural chuckle, the demon moved forward, pulling his battle axe free from the belt of his leather loincloth and hammered it sequentially into the heads of all the rats, killing them outright. When the last creature fell, he turned to the boy, what brows he had furrowing into a scowl.

"Who are you?" he asked in surprisingly articulate Common. "Why have you come here? Surely, these vermin were of no threat to you surface-dwellers."

The boy simply blinked back, his brown eyes large with fear beneath the mopping of chestnut hair that sprouted out from beneath his helm. He didn't reply.

"Well? Are you dumb and deaf as well as a nuisance?"

The lad vigorously shook his head.

"Then, answer, boy." Cindred's voice wasn't harsh, but he was sure that any human, dwarf or otherwise running into his sort when not expected would be frightened clear out of their wits.

"T…T-Tristan," the boy stammered out, his voice only just going through the shift into the deeper tones of a grown man. "I'm a crusader." The last was said with a bit more confidence.

Cindred let out a cold laugh, the hallways echoing with a sound reminiscent of the lowing of an angered bull.

"You somewhat resemble the role, boy, but you've a long way yet to go before you're in fact worthy of such a title."

"What would you know of such things, fiend?" Tristan snapped back, raising his sword and shield defensively.

"Enough, boy. I know enough. I've slain men greater than you. I'd be gone before I have at it again."

"Tristan, me boy, whomever are you talking to?"

Both the boy and demon snapped their attentions to the entrance to the crypt, Cindred craning his neck in attempts to see up the flight of stone steps to glimpse the speaker.

"Get down here quick, Solestri!" Tristan shouted back, bracing himself even further for battle. "'Tis a fiend straight out of the hells!"

Clanking was then heard as a dwarf clad in banded mail toddled his way down the steps obviously carved too deep for the likes of him. His face was barely visible through his helmet and black, bushy beard, but Cindred could see the man's hazel eyes glaring daggers at him. The demon rolled his own, his head joining in the action as his arms dropped limply to his sides.

"Back, fiend!" the dwarf shouted, holding up a holy symbol of some sort that usually dangled from a golden chain at his throat. "Go back whence ye came!"

Cindred merely blinked.

"Back, I say!" Solestri held the symbol out with greater fervor.

Cindred snorted in disgust and shoved his axe back through his belt. "Pardon me, but there are more important things I should be doing right now than dawdling about with pious fools." With that, he brushed past them and clomped down the corridor toward Sliver's tomb.

"He resisted!" he heard Tristan shout in disbelief. "What kind of foul creature is he, Solestri?"

"Not foul enough, apparently," the dwarf replied. "Beast!"

Cindred turned and paused. The term had been used to get his attention rather than as an insult. "Yes?" he asked slowly, his one browridge rising in curiosity.

"You are not spawn of the damned?"

"As in…?"

"A creature of the Abyss."

"That I am."

"Then…how could you…." The dwarf looked down at his holy amulet almost dejectedly, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. "How could you resist the Turning?"

The demon snorted again. "Easily enough. One, you're not all that strong, priest, and, two, the Abyss no longer wants me. Why should a spell or prayer that effects things still at home within that accursed place affect something in exile?"

Neither of the unexpected guests could put an answer to that, though both their mouths were agape with the effort. Cindred hadn't expected anything less of them, and, with a grunt, he continued on down the passage.

"Wait!" he heard Tristan suddenly cry out.

He sighed heavily out his nose and turned around once more, his green eyes flashing with annoyance.

"If you're not of evil…perhaps you could help us, then."

Cindred blinked in disbelief. "And how could I possibly be of any assistance to you?"

"Well…you see," Solestri began, "Haikur of the town guard has pleaded for our assistance with a goblin threat to the south. The homesteads in that direction have been plagued for some time, now."

"Just the two of you?"

"No," Tristan said, shaking his head. "There are two others in our company. Currently, they're seeing to returning a blacksmith's son's belongings that we managed to pry back from a group of krise. Midnight and Wyrmwood, their names are."

"And would they try to spit prayers at me as well?"

"I shouldn't think so. Midnight's a Shadow Elf sorceress, powerful enough in her art to already be feared by many of the marauding parties about Bywater. Wyrmwood is a goblin archer of some skill. We found him exiled as well."

"Figures."

"With you joining us," Tristan continued, his excitement obviously growing, "we'll be practically unstoppable! I saw how you dealt with those giant rats."

The demon shrugged heavily and looked back to the pile of bodies back the corridor with disinterest. "I deal with them all the time. There's no reason why I shouldn't be half-decent at dispatching them."

"At least consider!" the lad pleaded, his head barely higher than the dwarf's next to him, making the pair look quite comical. A begging knight-in-the-making barely old enough to leave his mother's arms traveling about with a dwarf in his prime, a Shadow Elf wench and a goblin. And to add a demon to the mix was almost laughable!

"Very well," Cindred said at last, suppressing a chuckle. "I shall consider." He turned once more down the corridor. "And where shall I meet you once I've reached a conclusion?"

"The south gate tomorrow afternoon if yer coming," Solestri replied. "That's when Haikur plans on setting out."

Cindred nodded, turning to face them at the secret panel. "If I decide to join you, I'll meet you there." He began to pry open the door. "And, just as a warning, I might have a friend with me." With that, he stepped through the opening and let the panel fall closed behind him, relishing in the silence that followed the _boom_ of the door falling back into place, separating him from the dreamers. 

To go and fight goblins…for what? What was there in it, really, for him? The opportunity to kill something—perhaps a number of somethings, even—probably. Food, most assuredly. Goblin actually tasted quite lovely despite the odor about the creatures. Yes, he would definitely think about it. Now, however, he was tired. Nothing in the Realmz would appease him more in that moment than a good morning's rest.


	2. Chapter Two: Sliver's Choice

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Chapter Two: Sliver's Choice

Sliver did nothing but glare at Cindred that evening after she awoke. He'd told her of everything that had transpired just hours previously, and she was not, in the least, impressed. Her arms were tightly crossed as the fingers of one hand drummed along the crook of her elbow, slight hissing sounds escaping through her partially opened lips with her delicate fangs glinting in the torchlight.

"Join up with _that_ sort, Cindred?" she snapped at him incredulously. "Have you gone utterly mad from too much sunlight?"

Cindred sat on an old barrel, the rotting wood barely supporting his weight as he propped his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his massive, clawed paws. He let out a heavy breath through his ringed nose.

"It gives us something to do other than hunt and eat and sleep."

"It would let everyone know that we're _here_, and make them hunt us to the ends of the earth! We'd never find a moment's peace!"

The demon shrugged indifferently and fixed the vampire with his bright green eyes, causing her to step back a pace or two. "You don't know that for certain," he replied. "For all we know, the people of Bywater might actually welcome us if we're able to succeed in this venture. At least the town guard will give us a little respect. Now and again."

"And that means what? A blind eye every third day of the week when we go out to hunt? And only then? I've made better deals with devils."

"Name one sincere devil that would make a deal with your sort and maybe I'll believe you." Cindred slowly rose to his hooves and stretched, muscles rippling over his entire form. "A devil that would make a true bargain with _anyone_ for that matter."

Sliver opened her mouth to reply but, to her horror, found that she didn't have one. She loathed losing arguments, and, with Cindred, the losses were beginning to pile up. He, apparently, was coming to realise something that she didn't. She turned to her sarcophagus for a brief minute before tilting her head just so that she could see him out of the corner of her eye, her hair concealing most of her face from him.

"A Shadow Elf, you say? A human, a dwarf and a goblin? Together?"

"Together."

"Happily?"

"That, I don't know for certain. The human and the dwarf seem to almost be mentor and pupil, but the others I've yet to encounter myself. We'll find out tomorrow afternoon."

"It approaches fast enough as it is. Where are they staying?"

Cindred shook his head. "I don't know that, either. All they said was for us to meet them at the south gate where they would wait with Haikur of the town guard."

"Brilliant," Sliver exclaimed with more than a tinge of sarcasm. "Haikur…that man has been hunting me down since I got here. The last thing I need is for him to realise what I am when I show up."

"He knows you're a vampire?"

"He at least is aware that there's one in the city. Before I bumped into you, my feedings were a bit…sloppy. I'd leave too much evidence behind." She raked a slender, almost taloned hand through her shimmering red hair and reached to a nearby chest to retrieve her deep purple, velvet cloak. "It's almost morning as it is. We'd best get something to eat before we risk our lives to help these perfect, incompetent strangers."

If Cindred could smile, he would have. Making certain that his battle axe was securely in his belt, he assisted Sliver with her cloak and found her bejeweled dagger for her. Like the vampire, it always sought blood and would never rest once it had sensed live essence heated by battle nearby. Silverfang, she'd named it…quite unoriginally. Cindred didn't question it, though. In this mausoleum, Sliver's word was usually the law, and rarely did she ever bend away from her own desires to satisfy those of others. The demon knew that he'd have to take advantage of this moment as much as he could if he truly wanted to accomplish his goal: acceptance into this wild and strange world known as the Realmz.

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"I can't _believe_ you talked me into this," Sliver grumbled as the pair trudged through shin-deep snow in the glaring sunshine later that day. Cindred looked the same as always, attracting more than a few stares from the locals, and Sliver was tightly bound up in her cloak, her hood shadowing her lovely, pallid face almost completely.

"You didn't have to come," he replied lightly, almost relishing the beauty of the day despite it's chill. Being with Sliver for as long as he had, he'd never really seen the sunshine. Now, he was soaking it up as well as he possibly could, for he knew he wouldn't likely get such a chance as this again. The hunting came at night. Their moving about came at night. In the daylight, people could see a bit too well for the purposes of a demon and a vampire, which was quite unfortunate for one so different from his kind as Cindred was.

They reached the southern gate shortly after leaving the mausoleum, Cindred trying out a smile to prove to the wary guards that he was more friendly than what he seemed. The best he could do was bare his canine-like teeth and spook nearly half the horses. He instantly sealed what lips he had together and gruffly cleared his throat.

"We've come at the bidding of Tristan and Solestri," he said loudly, his deep voice rumbling like thunder heard through black velvet. "I am called Cindred, and this is Sliver. Which of you is Haikur?"

One of the men situated on horseback kicked his steed forward just a slight bit, a very stern expression peering out from beneath his silver and bronze plumed helmet.

"I am Haikur of the town watch," he announced forcefully, "and it is I that asks the questions here--not you, demon. Tell me, what is it that you hope to gain by joining us here? Most gathered would much rather prefer watching you die along side the goblins this day." His light blue eyes narrowed with malice as they settled upon Sliver but did not linger long for it was the demon that was very obvious about what he was.

Sliver thanked whatever god or goddess that watched over her that it was freezing that day. Cloaks were always her one boon beneath the hellish rays of the sun.

"Does anyone really need a reason to help another?" Cindred prodded the soldier. "Just as humans and dwarves and halflings can have a tinge of darkness in their souls, can a demon not also have a breath of light?"

Haikur sat back in his saddle and regarded the beast down the length of his aquiline nose. His expression was a pensive one, and Cindred suddenly found himself somewhat nervous.

"You're very eloquent for such a creature, Cindred," the man said at last, putting the demon somewhat at ease. "Why it is that Solestri and Tristan trust you, I shall never know, but the dwarf especially seems to have more than a handful of seasons of experience on him. I trust his judgement." He twisted a bit in his saddle and motioned behind him, throwing back his rich, wine red cloak while he was at it.

"The guards of Bywater," he announced proudly as Cindred and Sliver looked at the green-garbed men with a bit of fear, some indifference, and more than a little resentment. "It has been charged to us to rid the farmlands to the south of the goblins that have plagued us for far too long. It's a…pity Thurfur did not share our views on this matter. His assistance would be greatly appreciated. Unfortunately, we have to work with what we have." His eyes returned to Sliver with that cold glint in them once again.

"Who's Thurfur?" Cindred asked, one browridge rising in curiosity.

Haikur snapped his attentions to the demon.

"Another of the king's guards, is all," he replied as if the matter were but a trifle thing. "He felt that orcs were a bigger problem far to the east, which hardly deals with us at all. He vanished out that way with another group of vagabonds not more than a few days ago along with a wizard named Vodalian. The fools probably all wound up dead with Thurfur leading them."

He suddenly cleared his throat as if realising that he'd said something that he hadn't and glanced off to his right in the direction of the eastern hills. "Here come your friends, demon. Good, good. Now, let us be off and rid the land of these foul goblins."

"Indeed!" Solestri called from where he led three others to join the guards' numbers. Cindred picked each out right away thanks to the diversity of their races. Midnight was tall and slender, draped in lavender robes of rough-spun silk, and her pale eyes watched every movement with such an alert wariness that Cindred was almost certain that she had the reflexes of a panther. Wyrmwood was small--even for a goblin--though his skin wasn't as rank looking as most of his type. He was armed with a bow and short sword, and his armor consisted of little more than a reinforced leather breastplate and worn woollen breeches. He had a scraggly mopping of black hair on his head that constantly fell into his dull brown eyes, but he never bothered to brush it away.

"Are we just going to stand about here and freeze?" Midnight spoke up after some time. Her voice was a soft soprano with the slight guttural lilt of the drow tongue, and Cindred was surprised that it wasn't harsher, more commanding, like most Shadow Elves he'd ever encountered…which wasn't many.

"No," Haikur said bluntly. "It's time we were off to fight goblins. Standing about we shall not do, but if you freeze, that's your loss. Come!" And with that, he led them all out the south gate and into the wilderness beyond.


	3. Chapter Three: Tristan's Trial

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Chapter Three: Tristan's Trial

The trek was a long one. Haikur lead the group far out into the wilderness, the walls of Bywater vanishing far behind them as they wandered almost aimlessly through a snowy wasteland dotted with trees here and again. Cindred very soon lost track of where they were, and Sliver, too, was becoming more and more edgy as the journey wore on.

"These farms, wherever they are, are already too far south to be much of a concern to Bywater and King Stephens," she muttered to no one in particular. "Why even bother with all of this?"

"Because," Haikur replied, hearing her, "if the creatures think they can get away with such matters, it will only embolden them to strike out for greater prey. Bywater could easily fall victim as well, and we cannot allow that. Times are too troublesome as it is."

"How do you mean?" Cindred asked curiously.

Haikur fixed him with a stern glare from beneath his helmet, the shadows cast by the cold metal making the expression all the more harsh. "It concerns not the likes of you, beast," he said plainly. "For all we know, you could be a part of our problems. It's not often that creatures of the Abyss…grace our presence."

"Cindred has bothered no one, good sir," Tristan spoke up from in front of them. When all the attention became centered on him, however, he visibly faltered. "He's…he's always kept to himself."

"As far as you know," Haikur stated. "And how long have you known him?"

Cindred and Sliver both rolled their eyes and shook their heads. The boy's argument could only end in tears. Of laughter or shame was yet to be decided upon.

"A good while," said Tristan bravely, quite to the surprise of all gathered, including himself. "Years, in fact. Solestri and I found him shortly after he'd apparently come through from the Abyss. The holy symbols wouldn't turn him. He's as pure as any of us gathered here this day--if not more so!"

The dwarf gaped at his ward for a short while before clearing his throat and regaining his senses. "The captain doesn't need to know all of the details, lad." His voice was solid even as he attempted to move right along with Tristan's ploy. Cindred didn't know why. There was really no reason at all for the pair to be lying for them, but they were. Was it just to remain on as good of terms with Haikur as possible? The man, quite obviously, wasn't the most amiable of people, but Cindred highly doubted that he'd be running into him very often after this just as before.

"You've peaked my curiosity, actually," Haikur said honestly. "Why the likes of you would tramp about with the likes of him is, indeed, a great enigma…given the fact that his companion is a murderer of the lowest ilk."

Cindred noticed Sliver tense up at that remark, and if she could go any more pale than she already was, she probably would have done that, too.

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When this is all over, he felt her say into his head, _I'll have his blood and you have his bones._

I doubt that'll get you much further in your unlife, Sliver, he responded tonelessly in the same fashion.

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It would sure as hell make me feel better, though…and I highly doubt he'll be missed. Not even by the king, I'll wager.

That's not for you to decide.

Shut up.

Fine.

I mean it.

Cindred snorted. Not talking to Sliver by any means for a while never was too much of a problem for him as close friends as they were.

It wasn't long after that that the ambush came.

Goblins, the feisty, foul little creatures armed with bows, short swords and flails and covered in rotting leather breastplates and rusting chainmail, seemed to spring out of the very cracks of the earth itself, quickly surrounding the party with a wall of gibbering voices and vicious steel. Once the shock wore off, everyone quickly prepared to defend themselves, Cindred pulling his axe from his belt and reflexively testing its balance, as usual, by giving a twirl of the wrist. Sliver drew forth a slender dagger from within her robes, clutching it in her gloved hand and crouching slightly as if ready to pounce on the first goblin that came her way. Tristan had his broadsword at the ready just as Solestri was prepared with his spiked mace. Midnight's hands were already busy weaving patterns in the air even as Wyrmwood notched his first jagged-tipped arrow.

"Keep them busy!" Midnight shouted the moment the goblins started closing in, the Bywater watchmen already cleaving them with swords and axes.

There had to have been scores of them, Cindred analyzed as he ran forward, axe swinging while his empty hand slashed just as easily through leather and flesh. Tristan and Solestri took positions at his flanks as he plowed through the mass of creatures that hardly came to his waist. Giving his axe a swing from above his left shoulder straight down to his right, he struck a goblin hard enough to not only split his skull from temple to jaw but to send him reeling backward, toppling several of his companions with the force of his landing. The demon was upon them in moments, pouncing with a mighty roar as he hacked at them like an enraged butcher.

Off to his left, Tristan fought valiantly with his blade, though it was obviously too big for him to wield properly. The goblins he struck were usually left merely wounded, but that didn't mean that the boy wasn't improving in his art. In fact, as Cindred finally rose from where he'd been busy with his pile of goblins, his forearms dripping with their foul brownish blood, he noted that Tristan actually seemed to have a form of strategy about his attacks…unlike with the rats just the other night.

He also saw Haikur and some of the other guards just a bit further beyond, using their positions on horses as much to their advantage as possible, but the numerous goblins seemed to still have the upper hand. Midnight was looking frantic, weaving whatever spell she was working at faster and faster as Sliver and Wyrmwood fended off all goblins that tried to get anywhere close to the sorceress. A glowing orange orb began to take form above the head of the lattermost, casting even deeper shadows over her hooded, dark-skinned face.

Cindred turned back to the task at hand, mercilessly felling any goblin that came within reach of his axe or claws, letting out a mighty roar that shook the very hearts of the cowardly to the core. Several goblins ran in screaming terror but hardly more than a handful.

Suddenly, as he was about to strike out at a heavily armed goblin captain, Cindred felt an excruciating pain shoot from his right shoulder down his arm and back. Grunting more out of shock than anything, his attack missed and his axe dropped from his grasp, the chosen foe taking advantage of his sudden appearance of helplessness and got in a glancing blow or two from his whip-like flail. Cindred clumsily batted him aside with his left arm before groping with it along the shoulder that was injured, seeking the source. He pulled free a vicious-looking arrow and only glanced at it briefly before snapping it in half in his hand and tossing the remains to the side.

"Archers!" Solestri cried out as an entire volley of the missiles came raining down upon them from the outer skirts of the battle. Many hit their marks within the grouped guards of Bywater, felling some and merely wounding others, while most simply, harmlessly, buried themselves deep in the snow.

Cindred howled as two punctured his left thigh.

"Cindred!" he heard Sliver scream out at the sound he made, obviously trying to get to him but unable to escape the wall of goblins about her, Midnight and Wyrmwood.

Midnight, herself, let out a shriek, but not from pain. The ball of light above her head had grown to about five feet in diameter and now exploded, spikes of fire and energy shooting out in all directions. Not a single goblin was missed with that spell, and only a handful remained alive once the barrage came to a smoky end. They, however, were too charred to fight on and either died of pain after a few moments or were cut down by the blades of Tristan and the town watch.

Once all the enemy was assuredly destroyed, Haikur took a count of their own losses.

"We've been victorious this day," he said, walking over to where Solestri and Sliver were tending to Cindred's wounds as well as their own as the rest of the guards looted the dead. "And we have the lot of you to thank, I must say." The smile he gave was tired but obviously well meant. Cindred and Sliver, though both surprised, gave small nods and smiles in return. The man had fought just as hard as the rest of them, his red cloak sullied and torn and his helmet lost somewhere with his rather handsome face bruised and scraped. His deep brown hair blew, tangled, on the cold winter wind.

"My apologies for my unfairness," he then said to Cindred, particularly. "We of the Material Plane have stereotypes for such matters as yourself, noble demon."

"Understood and forgiven," Cindred replied through clenched teeth as he winced. Solestri was pouring some unknown salve onto his leg wounds and chanting a healing spell at the same time. The burning sensation was almost more painful than the punctures themselves. "Though it's nothing I'm not already used to."

Haikur let out a low chuckle and nodded. "Indeed…indeed."

"Captain!"

Everyone looked up at the shout, Haikur turning where he stood, his right hand poised over the hilt of the great sword belted at his waist.

"Lieutenant Ganthor," he replied, relaxing as he saw the green cloaked soldier dashing over, snow billowing up in his wake. "What is the tally?"

"My captain," the other man said shakily, bowing hastily and glancing warily at those gathered about Cindred, his eyes resting on the demon himself after a moment or two. "Sir, all the men say we've been cursed, sir."

Haikur's eyebrows rose in slight disbelief. "What was that?"

"The mercenaries, sir," Ganthor went on, his voice quivering all the more as he felt Cindred's green eyes solidly on him, unblinking. "We've lost more than half the watch while they all still live! They've cursed us!"

The captain shook his head. "They've fought just as valiantly for our cause! Loyally! And they've had just as hard a time about it as we." He motioned to Cindred's gashes in particular.

"But they still live, sir, and once that demon is back to strength, he'll go after us as well! The others are sure of it! Once they've tasted the frenzy of battle, such creatures never relent until they are the sole survivor." The man's voice lowered. "The men will mutiny if you bring him back with us."

Haikur sighed and shook his head sadly, Cindred's ears flattening at the sight. He knew what the captain's decision would be, be it out of necessity or otherwise. He, at least, would be left behind and, more than likely, banished from Bywater forever…unjustly. The captain soon looked up at the six mercenaries with a look in his eyes that proved he had reached a conclusion.

"The demon must stay here," he said. "The rest of you are free to return with us, but it will be forever impossible to maintain order within the city watch if Cindred, too, comes along."

Tristan took a bold step forward, his simple, dented helm beneath his one arm. "Then none of us go back," he said flatly, the others making no move to disagree, least of all Sliver who was bent over her only friend, her hand firmly resting on his good shoulder while she glared daggers at the lieutenant. "We will never abandon any that we consider friend and ally--be it demon or otherwise. Cindred has proved himself worthy to us yet again, and we shall not simply ignore him because of petty superstition. Return to your city with the watch, captain, so that they may go about and proclaim this victory to all and claim it for themselves if that is their desire. We'll be fine on our own."

The lieutenant's face turned a bright scarlet, and he scuttled off several yards away where the other surviving guards were waiting for their captain, poised on their horses with a stiffness that more than hinted at their readiness to leave.

Haikur took a few steps forward, a smile coming to his face, and he reached out with his hand to grasp firmly onto Tristan's right shoulder.

"Well said, lad," he said quietly so that only the companions and not his men could hear. "If my rank is raised high enough in the near future, I'll make certain that you are all well rewarded." He reached to his belt and pulled forth a folded sheet of parchment and handed it to the young man. "Give that to the magistrate of Bywater if you somehow manage to get back into the walls."

With that, he gave Tristan's shoulder one last brotherly squeeze, Cindred a well meant friendly smile, bowed to the rest and turned and strode back to his chestnut stallion. He mounted in a fluid motion and kicked the horse into motion, leading his superstitious battalion off without a single glance behind.


End file.
